Tainted Love
by R.A.Rodgers
Summary: The funny thing about being a vampire is that the rain cannot hide your tears anymore. - Pam/Eric if you squint, rated T for language WARNING: IMPLIED MAIN CHARACTER DEATH


_ once I ran for you_

_now I ran from you_

_this tainted love you've given_

_I gave you all a girl can give you_

_take my tears but that's not nearly all_

_oh, tainted love_

**- Tainted Love, Hannah Peel**

* * *

The funny thing about being a vampire is that the rain cannot hide your tears anymore. She didn't thought of it when she slid a knife in her own wrists - she thought that no reason for her to cry would ever be given again. What ran from her eyes was blood, now, and the pure water that fell from the night only made her feel even worse. It washed her face reasonably, but those damned sticky tears tinted everything red again.

She wan't running, but waking slowly as she could, getting away from the club in the most torturing way. She wanted to feel the cold water and the wind; to remember how it was like to be scared of the dark. She wanted to feel human. It would be an excuse to explain all the shit going through her mind. The memories, the sounds, the sharp feel of emotion teasing her frozen heart.

Over a hundred years before she thought that all of this would be behind her. When he sank his teeth in her veins, taking her essence away she thought that what awaited her was a better future. Soaked and drowned in her sorrows she realized that transparent or bloody, tears where still falling from her eyes.

Her _afterlife_ was just as upside down as her _life_.

All of that mess had names, and Pamela didn't want to think of them. She fought to have them out of her mind but they were still there. Still reminding her that she _asked _for it. And that two days from now she'd be cursing herself for being this weak.

_Eric_, the one that caused her to wander off in the middle of the night would never let her forgive herself for actually doing it. He released her, but he would never stop telling her what to do. Habits where a powerful thing. He wouldn't say anything - he wold stand there, looking to her soul through her eyes, reading her mind like he was a fucking fairy. Then she would give up and lower her head, look at her _scarpins, _ashamed of what she'd said and done.

Still, being the cause of her tears, he wasn't the primary cause of her _temper_.

"Shit. Motherfucking stupid fairies." She cursed out loud to the woods, not sure of which of the blond mind-reading-fucker she was referring to. After all, all of that started with the _real_ mind-reader, the goddamned _Sookie_.

_S-o-o-k-i-e._

Only the girl's name had the power to bring her fangs down; thinking of her entire figure had the power to make her hiss like an upset cat. Everything bad that happened for the last five years had been her fault - and the year that she went missing was probably the best one since Bill Compton arrived Louisiana.

If Pam wanted to feel mortal when she left Fangtasia, she sure got what she wanted. But instead of the cold hands of unhappiness, she felt heat - coming from the distilled anger that poisoned her like alcohol couldn't do anymore. Blind anger, because she could predict how her maker would't care about where she was like _she_ cared when he vanished without a single word of explanation for days. Screw her releasing, he should still care for her, he should still _want her_. But no - all he had in mind was that stupid waitress.

She should get rid of her. End her life as an act of mercy, for both of them. Eric would have the eternity to forgive her and see that it was for his own good. He'd be all hers again. Bill Compton would be pissed, but he didn't care so much about her anymore.

Fact was: with the fairy dead, all was fine. And if someone had to kill her to make everyone's life better... well, she could _certainly_ sacrifice herself to make that happen. Not without pleasure.

She walked her way from Shreveport to Bon Temps slowly an automatically, torturing herself again; not with sadness but with longing - with the images of Sookie's blood soaking the sheets in her bed and her night gown, streaming freely away of her dainty body; bright, scarlet and sweet in her mouth would empower her like no other. The girl screams would be the perfect icing for that bloody cake.

When she arrived at the house her steps where silent and her smile wild. The stairs didn't creak, there was no dog to bark, no one to warn her. Nothing betrayed her presence. She found Sookie Stackhouse breathing calmly, lost in morpheus embrace.

Pam knelt by the blond waitress side and carefully took the strands of gold away from her neck, uncovering her paper-thin skin.

She was doing it for Eric.

He would be hers again.


End file.
